


Two Weeks After

by drvology



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: M/M, fic-a-month, my 2018 challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 15:10:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13813776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: After one month later they're back in school, back to reality, back to just trying to figure it all out.





	Two Weeks After

**Author's Note:**

> In the same 'universe' as my other Eyewitness fics, grouped together with the 'at the falls of the aniene river' collections link. || In 2018 I'm hoping to write 1 fic a month. This is 02/12.

Lukas doesn't see it coming.

He's walking down the hall, arms full of books, head filled with Philip.

The world spins and his thoughts of Philip explode from shattering pain. His books drop, scatter, and he's swinging from a protective stance before he really knows what's happening. Other kids are yelling, noise distorted by the roaring in his ears, and he bears his teeth when _fucking faggot_ slices through the din.

Lukas lands a punch. So angry and juiced it doesn't hurt his hand, not that punch or the second or the third. He rears back for another—lost count—when strong grips take hold of him and pry him away.

He jerks from whoever's dragging him along and staggers. Gets his balance, glares at the knot of gawkers filling the corridor.

"Come on, come on," someone's saying, guides him past the principal's office where he expects to be shown and into the nurse's room instead.

It smells like antiseptic and sunshine and he's pushed onto one of the two exam beds crammed close together in here. There's a pause, movements and sounds, and he winces at the shock of cold when an ice pack is placed in his hand and his hand is raised to his right eye. He squints from his left eye and nods because it seems like he's supposed to.

Mr Brewer led him in here. Mr Brewer, his chem teacher and a nice guy, looking at him with frank concern.

"Are you okay?" Mr Brewer squeezes Lukas' shoulder.

"'m fine." He nods again. "Really, it's cool."

Mr Brewer hurries to the door. "I'll go find Nurse Sandy. You keep that ice pack on and try to relax."

Lukas tells himself he is fine, but in the sudden quiet of the muffled nurse's office and adrenaline fast draining from his veins, he's not sure. It's a bit like a hospital room in here, that smell and the quiet and info posters hung on the beige all over walls, and that isn't so great. The world is strange and fuzzy around the edges and he can't quite think straight, but he anticipates Philip will be here any second because that's just how it's supposed to be. He switches the ice pack to his aching hand, presses it to his throbbing eye, and lets his pounding head drop forward.

Tries not to think about what just happened. Who did it. What they called him. The worse shame, mix of now mix of memory, curdling in his belly the longer he sits with it.

"Lukas?"

He blinks awake from a strange half-doze and meets his father's gaze. The ice pack is tepid and the pain has faded, dull and sore. The sun slants lower into the room, falls across his knees. How long has he been sitting here?

Dad studies him, reads his expression.

"I was on the road and got a call—didn't take me long to drive over." Dad grabs the ice pack, lets it drop on the narrow stainless steel counter next to the sink, and inspects Lukas' knuckles. "You got in a fight?"

Lukas starts to agree but then he huffs. "No. I was jumped."

"Hmm." His dad shifts weight and nods slowly. "Thought as much." His mouth goes tight and he narrows his eyes, says even tighter, "And where's Philip?"

"Dad, it wasn't, it's not…" Lukas swallows the rest. Swallows bile—disappointment and resignation that dad would do this, be angry and blame Philip without a thought—swallows tears.

"Don't you know?"

"No?" he says, warbling out like a plea, hitting him harder than any punch that he has no idea and he hasn't wondered until this moment. Sounds as small and miserable as he feels.

His dad pats his knee, turns and takes a long stride but stops short when the office door swings open. It's Philip, wide-eyed, and before either of them can react, his dad has Philip gathered in for a firm hug.

It's over in a breath, steals Lukas' air. Then Philip is pushed back to stand under his dad's scrutiny, shoulders held in his dad's broad hands.

Philip shoots him a look—what was that what's happening—and Lukas can only shake his head.

"Are you all right? Did those punks mess with you too?" His dad sounds stern and gruff and ready to do murder. He studies Philip as intently as he did Lukas, checking for injury, cataloging.

Philip allows it, not in a passive or hesitant way, stands straighter and reassures his dad while stealing glances at Lukas. It cracks the resignation, the disappointment, the fear that hardened around Lukas' heart. Warms him, all through, and he shivers from having gone cool and clammy sitting here.

"Well. I'm gonna go find out what's going on here." His dad looks from Philip to Lukas. "You good until then?"

Philip nods, nods at Lukas, and Lukas smiles. It hurts but he keeps smiling. "Yeah, we're good."

"Good. You boys sit tight." His dad squares up and is out the door, phone in one hand.

It's the first Lukas can remember that dad sounding so angry and charging away made him feel so settled, secure.

"Shit, are you okay?" Philip's asking and moving and stepping between Lukas' legs all at the once.

"Are you okay?" Lukas begs, so relieved, buries his face in Philip's neck and laughs crookedly. "We have to stop meeting like this," he tries, but it comes out hollow, false.

Philip tightens his arms around Lukas, dances patterns and comfort and massaging circles up and down Lukas' spine, doesn't ask anything else. Lukas doesn't ask either, doesn't want to know who he punched or who punched him—who called him _that_. Maybe he'll care about it later. Maybe not.

Philip rocks them, hums a gentle nothing tune, finally kisses Lukas' hair and pulls back.

"I'm fine. No one's bothered me any more than usual. But Rose found me and told me what happened. She has your stuff." Philip traces the swelling around Lukas' eye, lays feather-light kisses along the same path. "I'm sorry."

"No." Lukas catches Philip's hand. "I'm sorry." It's whispered, it's strangled, it's weird to have said.

All that shows in Philip's reaction. He shakes his head and rubs Lukas' arm. "What for?"

Lukas doesn't want to explain. He doesn't want to say it aloud and admit to it—not even sure it makes sense—but he can't leave it like this either.

"I punched you. I fucking punched you!" He almost can't believe it, hates himself, lifts a hand to Philip's cheek. "I mean, not like it took this to make me realize all this but, I don't know. I did it, in the hall and everyone laughed and I know it hurt and I just—"

"No. No, no," Philip shushes, kisses Lukas soft and persuasively. "That was different."

"How?" Lukas screws his face up and tightens his hold of Philip's hips. Doesn't seem it.

"You were so messed up. Scared of yourself, your feelings, and we were kinda under a whole lot of crappy stress. They're just bigoted assholes."

The clenching, awful shame returns, stabs him, and Lukas wants to bolt. "That's what you said I was—what I was."

"No," Philip whispers against Lukas' forehead, pushes in even closer. "It is different and I'm not just saying that. And you know I forgave you—it was easy to, Lukas, okay? So it's okay to forgive yourself. Really."

"I guess," Lukas whispers, quieter and a bit broken.

"Really really." Philip emphasizes with more kisses, nudges him until he reluctantly agrees, won't accept less.

Lukas laughs. Doesn't mean to but it lifts out from his sternum carried on relief and reaction settling in from the strange afternoon, pain and old scars and Philip still right here, standing with him. Him okay with sitting in the nurse's office at school, Philip held tight to him, no thought of who might come in or see or know.

Philip relaxes, smiles at him as if hearing his reel of thoughts and Lukas shrugs, helpless to deny.

"Boys?"

Philip turns enough to look, keeps Lukas shielded, but his shoulders drop and he lets out a long breath. Lukas peeks past to see Gabe standing there.

"Thought you might be ready to get out of here."

"Oh, yeah." Philip nods at Lukas, steps from him, and Lukas goes cold with the loss. "I should probably get to class."

"Nah—I'm here to take you home." Gabe raises both hands, shows them his palms. "Let's just say Helen and Bo are in with the principal and I don't see any reason for any of us to get in the middle of all that. Unless you want to join that conversation? Or go to class? Or wait for the nurse?" He looks at each of them in turn.

"No way." Lukas is sliding from the bed and pushing Philip in front of him before anyone can change their mind about this. He for sure wants out of here.

Their bags are waiting on a bench in the hall and Philip carries both. They get to Gabe's truck without running into anyone and Lukas is pretty sure Gabe timed it this way. He's grateful. He imagines Helen and his dad cornering the principal and dealing with this so he's not in trouble, and he might get some static from that but he doesn't care. He's grateful for that, too.

Philip hops in the backseat and Lukas climbs in after, crowds close, everything starting to hurt again and needing to touch.

Gabe leaves them in silence for a while, and town slips past and behind them. Lukas shuts his eyes and rests on Philip's shoulder and Philip's hand covers his, splayed on Philip's thigh.

"Lukas—how are you?"

"I've had a lot worse from dumb riding mistakes, so honestly, not so bad. My head is hammering from the inside. I'm wiped. And I think I'm gonna have a black eye. But—not bad." Lukas heaves a breath. Gabe is asking about more than that. "I'm not like, betrayed or anything, but that still… I don't know. It just came out of nowhere." He doesn't open his eyes or shift position. It's easy talking to Gabe. Easy talking in front of Philip.

"I'm sure it was a shock. And that's okay—it's not the kind of thing we _should_ expect. I hope it's an aberration, but at least it's being dealt with." Gabe pauses. "Lukas, I wish it wasn't like this, but losing friendships, losing connections—that might just be how it is with some people. These are people who've known you in one way most of your life, and some won't be able to accept you as anything but that. And some just aren't the accepting type."

Lukas sighs. He knows, has seen, but he wouldn't change a thing just to get popular again or whatever. "Don't need 'em," he says, quiet and firm. Means it and there's no flutter, no regret.

"Good—and fair. But say something if it does start to bother you. Yeah?"

"Yeah. I will. Thanks, Gabe."

"Of course. Philip? Same goes."

"I'm cool—thanks."

Gabe makes a pointed sound and Philip snorts.

"Okay, I promise I will. It's not a lot different for me though, you know. Except our first week back—everyone gave us a lot of space—we were kind of freaks and famous same time. That wore off quick." Philip is sharp, too knowing, but not bitter. His thumb caresses Lukas' wrist, writes secrets into Lukas' skin, tells Lukas why.

Philip kisses his temple and he smiles, drifts as Philip and Gabe talk.

The house is quiet and shaded in by afternoon, and Gabe maneuvers Lukas into the kitchen before he can disappear upstairs with Philip. So Philip comes into the kitchen too, stands next to him by the table.

Gabe putters around, hands Lukas three pills and a glass of water.

"Cool, are these horse tranquilizers?" Lukas teases.

"If I thought they'd do you any good—but no. They'd just make you sick." Gabe takes the empty glass and hands Philip a tray.

Sandwiches, cut fruit, lemonade, and a pile of Philip's chocolate chip cookies.

"I want you both to eat and then nap."

It should make Lukas feel like he's being treated like a hangry toddler but nope. It's awesome and he soaks it in.

"Lukas, your father will be here for dinner, and then you boys can decide what you want to do about tomorrow."

"Decide what about tomorrow?" Philip nibbles on an apple slice and his tongue darting across the pinky flesh distracts Lukas' attention.

"Oh well, it's Friday, so Helen and I figured it's fine if you want to start on your weekend at Lukas' a day early. I'm sure Bo would agree with that. But if you want to go to school and face those boys who did this—simply by showing up and having normal day—that's fine too." Gabe rolls his eyes and shoos them toward the stairs. "So that's cleared up. Long weekend it is. Now go eat and get some rest."

Philip's room is low-toned and the fountain burbles and it smells familiar and good. Like them. They eat, trade kisses, and Lukas is heavy-eyed and swaying as Philip gets the blankets in order, tugs his shoes and flannel off, and tucks them into bed.

"Whoa—whatever Gabe gave me is knocking me out."

"Sure. That's what it is." Philip kisses him and he's not too out of it to kiss back, long and deep, chasing and sharing comfort.

"Are you really okay?" "Do you want to go to school tomorrow?"

They ask at the same time, pause at the same time, start speaking overlapping again and laugh.

Philip whuffs and covers Lukas' mouth with a hand. "I am so good with just going to your house tomorrow and not worrying about school again until Monday. Or ever, but I'll deal. Your turn."

Lukas circles Philip's wrist with his fingers and licks Philip's palm. Philip wipes it on Lukas' shirt.

"Dad has to leave early tomorrow and he'll be gone until late so. Sweet, right?"

"The sweetest. Let's sleep in and go for a long walk and put the hammock up by the Tree and order a pizza for dinner."

"It's a date." Lukas draws Philip's hand to lay over his heart. "I really am okay." The squirming thing tremors in his voice and Philip catches it, stills in wait. "They uh. Someone called me a faggot." He doesn't intend to put it so bluntly but there's no good way to say it.

"Damn." Philip taps Lukas' chin. "That's not an insult, it's just lazy and totally lacking in creativity. I mean, joke's on them because, duh."

The acceptance, the tart turnaround of the hurt lashed at him is so unexpected and perfect that Lukas laughs, can't even offer token protest. But he shakes Philip, grunts, "You jerk," and Philip laughs, kisses him until the squirming slithering thing is no more.

They kiss until he can't tell Philip's breath and pulse from his. Kiss until his aching jaw protests and his hurt eye runs with tears.

Lukas looks at Philip, lets Philip see. "And I thought about what you said—the hitting—it is different." He chews his lips and curls onto his side, lets Philip pull him in. "Thank you."

He's almost asleep when something makes him say, "Dad did that after mom died. Reacted like that, I mean. Like I did—lashing out, on edge. I didn't understand it then, for sure. It took all this shit that's happened, but I get it now. Get that he was swamped and pissed and afraid."

"Did he…" Philip swallows, hard enough it clicks.

"No, he never actually hit me." Lukas could leave it there but he knows he doesn't have to. And, he doesn't lie to Philip. "But it was scary—plenty of times I thought he would. I learned to flinch, and then not to flinch, and then just not to do some things."

"Is it better now?"

"Mostly." Lukas considers it. "Actually, yeah. It is. Like everything else, all the crap and craziness that happened, well, it helped that too."

"Good." Philip draws hearts looped together up and up Lukas' arm. "Mom had a few boyfriends who knocked me around. But never for long—once she found out, they were gone. Said no one was worth more than me, couldn't ever give her enough to let that happen."

"Good," Lukas echoes. He gets a hand under Philip's shirt, presses it to Philip's ribs. "That's good she'd do that. I'm glad."

Philip makes an agreeing noise, kisses him, tastes safe and perfect, tastes like peanut butter and sleepiness.

He hates that it happened, that Philip has survived and went through so much, but he's not going to linger in it or make Philip drag any unwanted muck around. They'll talk more about it if Philip wants to talk more—but he'll wait, leave that to Philip to decide. He trusts Philip is okay with it, has dealt with it but knows he's here just in case, trusts Philip to say when it isn't okay, whatever that might be.

He blinks. Oh. _Oh_.

Lukas huffs a low, warm laugh, burrows around until he's more comfortable, good side of his face on Philip's chest, head and body filled with Philip's pulse and breath.

"You know, for a day that included getting wailed on, it's actually been pretty amazing." Lukas means it. The breakthroughs they continue to share, the trust they build and build, getting tomorrow all to themselves, having Helen and his dad at school duking it out for them. He's even looking forward to dinner later and hearing about what the principal had to say.

"Well, you've had worse riding, so." Philip shifts to free an arm out from under Lukas, tenderly strokes Lukas' bruises and nose and lips. "I'm going to read but you go on to sleep," he whispers, and Lukas nods.

He does, Philip's scent and heat, the fountain and rustling pages, Gabe a busy solid presence downstairs carrying him smooth and easy into a dreamless, contented slumber.


End file.
